


Different Flavors

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Poly, Biting, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Love/Hate, M/M, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: There's a particular taste to the Prince's defiance tonight that Ravus doesn't recognize. He needs to familiarize himself with the flavor.
Relationships: Ravus Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ravus Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Different Flavors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aithilin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/gifts).



> Requested by Aithilin! I used #15 from these [sensory prompts](https://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/613938458400014336/64-sensory-prompts) as inspiration.

All Ravus could taste was salt.

Every single bite of Lucian food presented to him tasted like far too much. It didn’t help that half of the Citadel’s traditional menu consisted of fish, and the other half of fried food – still, mostly fish. The buffets prepared by the apparently esteemed kitchen staff had certainly _looked_ palatable enough – though Ravus would never admit that much out loud – but bite after bite of delicately fried rice and crisp, battered pinkshrimp had just been an assault of sodium sacrilege on the tip of his tongue.

Every steak of garulessa meat tasted _too_ seasoned, an overabundance of garlic and onion and bottled steak seasoning ingrained into the grill lines. Every golden crust of griffon cutlet was too dense, the deep fried batter scraping along his taste buds. The sea bass tasted less like bass and more like the sea, the fine drizzle of oil across the flakey white fillets failing to cut through the briny memory of the bay drenched into its skin.

And if it wasn’t salt, there was always sweet. Half of the samplings on the cake tray were made of some sweet potato from out west. It all tasted like baby food to him, the sweet, starchy spud overpowering any subtlety to what might have otherwise proven to be a somewhat decent serving – by Lucian standards, anyway.

From the decadent dinner sauces to the indulgent desserts, there was always something to each dish that made it taste far too overwhelming.

“You’re even pickier than I am.”

Noctis claimed it was because of his bland Imperial palette. Noctis seemed to be of the mind that all they ate in Niflheim were pickles, sauerkraut, and boiled beetroot… Which wasn’t entirely untrue, but Ravus was never going to let him know that.

Noctis said that he’d get used to Lucian cuisine the more time he spent in Insomnia. Noctis said he looked forward to taking him on a tour of the diverse spectrum of restaurants uptown in his quest to change his tune. Noctis said he’d learn to enjoy actual taste again.

Noctis needed to shut his mouth, lest Ravus _make_ him shut it.

“I’m not picky,” Ravus argued. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be having you.”

“Thought that just meant you had great taste.”

Ravus’ eyes narrowed, piercing the back of Noctis’ neck as he took his time with the door. The prince said and did very little that Ravus let himself be surprised by, but the self-congratulatory bite to his words then sounded somewhat bolder than Ravus was used to.

Ravus was used to a defiant Crown Prince of Lucis, certainly. He was used to his demure sort of savagery, withdrawn yet dangerous. Noctis was quiet until he was spoken to, and acted docile enough until he was provoked. The Prince was always riding the razor’s edge of polite decorum and unhinged rebellion. Ravus was used to seeing more of the latter than the former. He was used to a little spine, a little flash of teeth just before biting down on whatever Ravus’ means were to muzzle him during the night.

He wasn’t used to this almost smug-sounding pride. Ravus tasted the hints of a different sort of flavor in that comeback, one he couldn’t identify with just a single sampling. Once Noctis unlocked the door, he was free to investigate.

The gush of Noctis’ breath as his back hit the closed door was a much more delectable flavor. The low grunt as his head was yanked back, much better suited to the commander’s tastes.

It was the tang on his tongue that Ravus found unusual.

He never asked for an invitation, merely expecting Noctis to spread his lips open for him to devour. Ravus was met with no resistance, the same laws he’d enforced on the prince when he visited Niflheim abided by just as stringently now. Just because he was in Insomnia, didn’t mean Noctis got to make rules for Ravus to follow. He gripped his hair tight, holding his mouth in place for Ravus to venture within, searching for this exotic flavor on the prince’s tongue.

He couldn’t focus, though. Not while Noctis’ hands wormed up his chest, fumbling over the many latches of his Imperial coat. Ravus clasped the claws of his magitek hand around both of the prince’s slim wrists, wrenching them up to press against the door above his head. Noctis gasped, breaking the firm seal of his mouth beneath Ravus’. He glared up at him, looking entirely too stubborn for a man bound in such a precarious position.

“What _do_ you really eat over there?” he asked, conversationally, as if he could divert Ravus’ attention enough to regain his freedom.

“Mouthy Lucian brats.”

Ravus was not in the mood for a conversation, nor was he willing to compromise. He wanted submission and he wanted silence. He wanted to know what that hot taste on the prince’s tongue really was. He gave his hair a harsh tug, and like unhooking a latch, Noctis’ mouth opened with a whine, and Ravus resumed his tasting.

The more he tested it, savored the lush vessel for the foreign spice, the more Ravus felt like he might recognize it. There was a familiar zest to the revolt of the prince’s body against his, straining to escape the prison he all but begged Ravus to put him in for disciplining that mutinous mouth. There was a particular insurgency to the heat of his lips that was characteristic of a different dissident in the Lucian court. Ravus’ claws fastened tighter around Noctis’ wrists when he remembered.

“Ulric.”

Just when Ravus successfully made himself forget about him, Nyx Ulric never failed to remind him of his stake in this arrangement. After all, someone had to keep the prince restrained when Ravus wasn’t there. And although Ravus was sure that Ulric thought of him in exactly the same way when Noctis was in Niflheim, Ravus still preferred not to think of the glaive as an equal partner, merely as a means to an end. He was one side of a mutually rewarding transaction, but the less Ravus had to see of him, the better.

“Have one last taste before I arrived?” Ravus asked.

Noctis finally had the sense to look appropriately cowed by the little accusation. The way his roughed up lips pressed together in a modicum of guilt filled Ravus with an immense satisfaction. If he enjoyed Ulric’s participation in their arrangement, it was solely to use him as an excuse for moments just like this one. The insolent nudge of Noctis’ hips finally waned, and the taut strain of his arms trying to break Ravus’ hold finally yielded.

Good. Ravus’ fingers squeezed the roots of Noctis’ hair again, making him part his lips for him once more. He lapped up the remnant aroma of Nyx Ulric on the prince’s tongue, heat filling his throat as he felt the phantom presence of the other man spark between them. Ravus wanted to wash him out and imprint himself into Noctis for Nyx to taste. He wanted to leave as fragrant of a reminder once Ravus was gone, as Nyx left for him when he came back.

They were all gentlemen, and this was a gentlemen’s agreement – though what they did with Noctis behind their respective doors was the furthest thing from gentlemanly. Ravus wasn’t envious of Nyx Ulric, but he was _fiercely_ competitive with him. He didn’t expect that he would see him while Ravus was here for Niflheim’s thinly veiled diplomacies, but he wanted Nyx to _know_ he was there. He wanted him to taste Ravus on Noctis’ lips, and fail to taste better.

He ended up biting Noctis in the throes of that thought. Noctis flinched back, surprise blinking hazily up at him. Ravus took a breath and composed himself, because in spite of how ignoble his intentions were for Noctis, he still had his manners.

“Apologies,” he offered, stiffly.

Noctis pursed his lips together, nursing the nipped red mark for a moment. Then he smiled, the ghost of Nyx Ulric’s reckless provocation flaring up in him.

“If you’re into that, I know a real good Galahdian dish I might let you try.”

Ravus clicked his tongue in disgust, then made Noctis bite down on his for the rest of the night. Though it was hard not to admit by the end of it, that Ravus found he much preferred the Lucian flavor with a little Galahdian fusion to spice it up.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay everybody, I think I'm finally done sinning for this month :')


End file.
